


Just Re'lax'

by little_bean



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_bean/pseuds/little_bean
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy are each on the women’s and men’s club lacrosse teams of their college. One day, the two teams decide to play each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lame attempt at a joke, since another name for lacrosse is "lax." Haha!! I'm hilarious!
> 
> Also, sorry if all the descriptions for the actual game is boring. As a lacrosse player myself, I just didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression of the game.

“Raven, you cannot be serious,” Harper sharply retorted, relaxing on a locker, arms crossed. “A boy-girl game never works. The rules are too different, and we don’t even use the same sticks!” 

Raven tutted. “So?”

“So, how in the hell will this go smoothly?”

Raven shrugged. “I figured we would just deal with it,” she stated calmly, looking at the rest of the team. “We all know that we are the superior team, and that guys don’t have the finesse that any woman lacrosse players have.” Some girls were nodding as Raven continued. “We would probably play by our rules, just more relaxed. It would be fun!”

Fox, Echo, Anya, and Glass murmured their agreement. “It would be entertaining to see the guys try and use our sticks too, if we swap,” Echo said, laughing. That got the other girls to start agreeing excitedly. Watching the guys simply struggling to catch the ball would be something to die for. 

But Clarke wouldn’t have it. “No way,” she interjected, stepping into their circle. “No guy is touching my lacrosse stick. I won’t allow it.”

Raven smirked. “Oh? You don’t think they’re…” she wiggled her eyebrows “...skilled enough?”

The locker room exploded with laughter as Clarke turned pink. Of course, count on Raven to turn playing sports into some sort of euphemism. “God, Reyes.”

Raven simply laughed some more. “Calm down, it can be an optional thing. But personally, I would rather be shot on by a guy with a girl's stick and their own. They can really get some speed behind their shots. Murphy once told me he got to 90 miles an hour once.”

Lexa snorted. “Like Murphy never exaggerates,” she interjected. 

Raven waved her off. “Whatever. Who’s in?”

All the girls raised their hands. Clarke, not so willingly, and only when Octavia gave her a knowing look. 

“Alright!” Raven said, joyful. She clapped her hands together. “It’s settled. Now, let’s move out, and I’ll draft a game plan to crush the boys next meeting. See ya!” There was some cluttering and muttering as everyone made a rush to grab their equipment and get home.

As they all filed out of the room, Octavia linked arms with Clarke. 

“Yes, O?” 

“This. Is going to be so fun.” She squeezed Clarke’s arm.

Clarke swung her stick around with her free hand. Some frat boy glared at her as he was forced to dodge her. Clarke just ignored him. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Octavia goffed. “Because a certain someone is on the guys’ team. A certain… brother of mine.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Clarke said. “I’m just telling myself the look on his face is going to be priceless when I burn his defensive ass.”

“I’ll be sure to warn him,” Octavia promised. 

They finally arrived at Delta Gamma, and Clarke walked Octavia up the steps. 

“You sure you don’t wanna stay a bit?” Octavia asked. “I know you’re not a typical sorority girl, but we could have some fun tonight. Let loose, get a little drunk, you know, the works.”

Clarke shook her head, already retreating. “I have some work to do, but I’ll see you at next practice.”

As she walked away, Octavia called after her. “You need to relax a bit! Take a break from chemistry!”

Clarke waved a hand in the air. “When chemistry takes a break, I will too. See you later, O.”

—

Two weeks later, and two midterms later, the date of the battle of the sexes was to commence. 

Clarke didn’t ask any questions, but somehow Raven got a hold of a pair of keys that opened the turf field’s gates. So, at one in the morning and only the full moon to light the stage, the girls all strutted up, fully dressed in their uniforms. With their matching headbands shining in the reflective moonlight, the white was almost intimidating. 

The boys trotted on the field from the other side, sprouting from the underground tunnel. They hooted and whooped, clashing sticks on sticks, chest-bumping each other endlessly. They were dressed in their practice pinnies, which Clarke was internally grateful for, as their normal uniforms stank like a pile of rotting garbage. Granted, it really was all of their padding that caused the smell, but with the pinnie at least their armpits could breathe. 

The girls, having discussed their tactics, wordlessly formed a single file line, shoulder to shoulder. They met the men in the middle of the field, who were still in their muddle, still laughing and joking around. 

Raven motioned. Echo, Clarke, and herself walked forward from the center of their line. Finally, the boys fell quiet, as three figures emerged from their group.

Clarke squinted as they approached, distaste filling her mouth. 

“Ah, so the princess, general, and spacewalker grace us with their presence.” 

Clarke made a move to step forward, but Raven held her back. 

“Blake. Murphy. Roan.” Raven jutted her head out. “Ready to lose?”

Bellamy looked at his teammates incredulously. “Ha! Only if you are referring to yourself.”

“A fruitless attempt at trying to feign superiority. Pathetic,” Echo stated, eyes devoid of emotion. “Simply prepare yourselves for a crushing defeat.” She turned on her heel, retreating to the line. Raven followed suite, winking suggestively. Clarke simply pointed a Blake. 

“Got something to say, princess?” He asked, grinning. 

Clarke shut her mouth, storming back to her ranks, dragging her stick behind her. 

Back at the huddle, Raven brought the team into a tight circle. “Ok, everyone. Here’s what we’re going to do. Most of their attackers switched sticks with us, so their ball skills will be horrific. That gives us an upper hand. Once we get control of the ball, we should pass it around a bit, get a feel for their sticks, and then use our speed and agility to snake passed their defense. Like I said, we are mainly adhering to our rules, so they will relax their typical defense until they realize how much of a threat we really are.”

“On defense, we need to be aggressive, outright, get them on their heels. Since they have our sticks, if we make contact with their attackers, the ball will pop right out. And if they break our defense, we have Raven to stop any shot they throw at us.”

Raven nodded. “And when in doubt, get the ball to Clarke, and let her work her magic. Ok, people! Let’s do this! Hands in!” Different hands of different colors and sizes piled in the middle. “Panthers on three. Clarke?”

Clarke took a deep breath. “One, two three—”

“Panthers!” The girls threw their hands into the air. From the boys’ huddle came a similar cheer, and the starters took their positions. 

Octavia was at the center, paired against a small runt named Jasper. A Fo-Go, as they were called. Their only job to do the face off, then get out. 

Octavia kneeled down, familiar with the guy’s version of the draw. She was prepared for the change, having practiced with Bellamy when they were younger. From her down the field, Clarke could hear her spouting some trash talk, making the skinny fellow start to tremble. Clarke had to admit, Octavia looked pretty badass when she braided her hair in a warrior style. 

Someone on the sidelines blew the whistle, and the game was on. 

Octavia won the ball within a second, quickly getting it to her offense. But breaking the boy’s defense proved harder than Clarke anticipated. They were ruthless, pushing the girls over, knocking them on the ground, chiding at anyone who held the ball for too long. But eventually, at some moments, they found a way to get the ball in the back of the net. But so did the boys.

About twenty minutes into the game, Clarke stood watching the guys make an attempt to score against Raven. 

“Enjoying the view, Griffin?”

Clarke didn’t flinch. “Just waiting for Raven to snuff another one of your boy’s pathetic attempt at a goal.”

Bellamy thrust the end of his stick against the ground. “You were never the one for small talk,” he commented.

Clarke saw Monty make a move to goal, but Raven matched him. 

“Nope, never was!” Clarke pushed Bellamy over, knocking him off balance. She dashed away, shouting at Raven who chucked the ball to her. 

“Griffin!!” Bellamy yelled as he scrambled to get to his feet. Clarke left him in the dusk, legs blazing in the darkness.

In her periphery, Clarke saw Octavia on her right, Gina to her left. But she didn’t need them. Momentum was on her side. Rushing up the field, Clarke juked passed Riley, a pathetic defender, flat-footed. Next was Atom, who required more work. A roll, and Clarke sped passed him. 

Finally she was face-to-face with Roan, who crouched at the goal. Faking up high, Roan jumped, taking the bait, when Clarke shifted and tossed the ball at the bottom of the goal. It hit the side, making a loud ping as it ricocheted into the net.

“Yeah, Clarke!” She was surrounded by her team, all cheering. 

When the congratulations were finished with, Clarke strutted back to her position. Bellamy stood there, waiting for her. Through his helmet, Clarke could see him frowning.

“What’s with the pouty face?” Clarke asked, voice saccharine. “C’mon, just brush it off.” She even scraped off some turf from his shoulder pads, and Bellamy stepped back.

“That was unfair,” he growled, shifting to put his stick horizontal in front of him. It was an obvious dominant stance, trying to make himself seem broader than he was. 

Clarke made an overly sympathetic face. “Aw, honey bun, I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings!”

Bellamy’s frown deepened. “Stop it.”

Clarke brought her hands to her chest and spun in a circle. “Oh, the pain of the world! It’s torture, and I don’t think poor Bellamy Blake can take it!”

“God, princess, you drive me insane,” Bellamy growled. “Just know, it won’t happen again. You tricking me,” he clarified, pointing at her.

“Sure, Blake,” Clarke said, flipping her long braid out of her face, getting ready for the next set to begin. 

The game went on for a long time. Bellamy stuck to Clarke’s hip like glue, making sure she never even saw the ball. He would poke and prod at her, making her glare many times in his direction. When she tried to cut into the middle for a pass, he would simply grab her and give her a huge bear hug.

“Bellamy Blake! Get your hands off of me!” Clarke yelled, voice muffled as she was squished into his chest.

“But you’re so warm, and cuddly, I just couldn’t resist!” was his response. He continued hugging her until his other teammates got the ball back and transitioned it up the field. When he released her, Clarke breathed deeply.

“You are unbelievable.”

“Why, thank you!” Bellamy said, bowing dramatically. 

Later in the game, Clarke yanked Bellamy’s lacrosse stick out of his hand, and ran to the opposite side of the field. Bellamy rushed after her, cursing her name relentlessly as Clarke snaked through other pairs of players. She even hid behind the goal, and must have held onto his stick for at least five minutes until Bellamy caught up with her, lifting her up in the air. She kicked out, but he made sure to stay out of her leg’s reach. 

“Put me down!” She demanded, still keeping a vice grip on both sticks. 

“When you put my stick down, sure.” 

They stood like that, in the middle of the field, in a stalemate for a while. Both of their teammates, still participating in the game, just ran passed them, ignoring their situation completely. 

Finally, still silent, Clarke dropped the stick to the ground. Bellamy gently placed Clarke down, then bent over to pick up his stick. It gave Clarke a chance to admire his butt, which she whapped with the end of her stick. 

“Damn, Blake, not much too show off there. I suggest quitting and finding a job where you can hide your body.” 

Bellamy stayed in his position for a moment, then slowly stood up straight, making sure his butt stuck out as much as he could.

“Sounds like to me you just want to save it all for yourself,” he said, voice low.

Clarke shivered. She hoped Bellamy didn’t notice, but if he did, she could at least attribute it to the late hour. “You wish.” She strutted away.

The game finally ended at an hour Clarke never wanted to be able to experience. She could feel the sleep descending upon her, coaxing her to just lie down wherever she stood and doze off. As her friends muddled together, shouting out a cheer, Clarke lazily followed along, not taking in anything that was happening. They formally clapped the hands of every guy player, no matter how stinky they were, and started to disperse. 

As always, Clarke found Octavia to walk home with. 

“Have fun?” she attempted to make conversation in her sleepy state.

“Oh, yes,” Octavia replied. “But it seems like you had more fun!” She nudged her friend’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked, becoming more awake with her confusion.

“God, you are so blind,” Ocatia told the sky. “You and Bell could literally not stop flirting all game for one second.”

“Not true!” Clarke’s voice rose an octave as she defended herself.

“Really. Recall one moment where you don’t remember Bellamy at your side during the game.”

Clarke took a moment to rack her brain coming up empty. But that didn’t mean anything.

“Idiots, the both of you,” Octavia murmured.

“Hey, Clarke! O!”

The pair turned around at the voice. Bellamy, helmet discarded somewhere, was leaping after them. 

“Bell!” Octavia met him in a hug. “Nice playing out there.”

“Thanks, sis,” he said, meeting Clarke’s eyes. “I had some fun tonight.”

Octavia laughed, seemingly getting some joke hidden in Bellamy’s words which they Clarke did not understand. Whatever. 

“Well, this is where I leave you two,” Octavia said, motioning at the DG house. “See you guys later!”

Bellamy and Clarke said their goodnights to Octavia as she stepped inside. Without a word, Clarke continued walking to her apartment. Bellamy scrambled to catch up with her.

“Mind the company? I’m headed the same way.” 

“Nope.”

“O-kay…” Bellamy cleared his throat. The hadn’t changed out of cleats, and they clicked on the cement. After a moment, “You’re a really good player, Clarke.”

Clarke turned her head, trying to spot any humor on Bellamy’s face, but she only saw sincerity. “Thanks, Bellamy,” she said, genuine. “You’re not a half-bad defender,” she complimented him.

“Such high praise from the princess herself! What did I ever do to deserve this?” Bellamy asked, being dramatic again. This time, Clarke actually laughed, getting used to the nickname. “We compliment each other pretty well, actually,” Bellamy said, contemplative.

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re an attacker, I’m a defenseman. We could hone our skills on one another.”

Clarke stopped walking. 

Bellamy fumbled, looking anywhere but her eyes. “I didn’t--that’s not what I meant, I was talking about our lacrosse--”

Clarke rested a hand on his chest, which seemed to calm him down. “Relax, Bell. I got it. This is just my place,” she tilted her head to the house complex behind her. 

“Oh,” Bellamy said, clearly relieved. He cleared his throat. “So, would you be open to that?”

“What?”

“Just playing some one-on-one lacrosse with each other.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun.” She turned to go, but Bellamy caught her hand. 

“And then, afterwards, since we will probably work up an appetite, we could grab some food afterwards.”

Clarke stepped closer to him. “But I would be all sweaty,” she said. 

Bellamy smirked. “That wouldn’t bother me,” he said, tugging her a bit closer. His face was dangerously near her nose to the point where Clarke could count his freckles.

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said, gazing up at his face. 

“Let me prove it to you,” he said, deep. He closed the distance between them, slow and deliberate. Clarke stood there, letting him reach her lips. Bellamy’s kiss was soft and sweet, and in contrast to his rough playing earlier, it was tentative, careful. Clarke snuck a hand behind his waist, pulling him towards her, opening up her mouth. But Bellamy broke away, stepping back. 

“Guess you don’t mind either,” he quipped. “See you later, Clarke.” 

“Bellamy Blake, you are unbelievable!” Clarke yelled after him, not minding the hour or her neighbors. 

“I think you’ve already said that today,” Bellamy called out behind him. “But thanks for the reminder!” He waved, then turned the corner. 

Clarke humphed. As she walked into her apartment, she could still feel the sting of Bellamy’s lips on hers. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I have ever used the word "stick" more in my entire life. 
> 
> Also, I hope this was entertaining/sweet! I like writing it.


End file.
